The Royal Collection. Rebecca WintersЧитать онлайн книгу.
the dog?’ He glared down at Pookie, who was scrabbling at his knees in the usual fawning welcome. Like Lotty, the dog was filthy, his white coat grey with dust and tangled with scraps of wallpaper and other rubbish. ‘I don’t suppose it occurred to you that he might need to be fed?’
As he’d intended, Lotty was instantly guilty. ‘No, I didn’t think of it. Sorry, Pookie.’ She looked back at Corran. ‘I don’t suppose you could take him back with you and feed him now, while I finish this?’
‘You suppose right,’ he said. ‘I want you to stop being so stubborn and come back to the house before you collapse.’
It was amazing how a mouth that looked so soft could set in such an implacable line. ‘I want to finish this job.’
Corran had had enough. ‘If you don’t do as I say, I’m going to sack you, and then you won’t have a job.’ He jabbed his finger at her. ‘Now, you get off that ladder right now or I’ll come and drag you down myself!’
There was no mistaking that tone of voice. Lotty scrambled down from the ladder without another word. Nobody had ever spoken to her like that before and, even through her exhaustion, she was conscious of a flicker of shameful excitement. It was almost worth provoking Corran’s temper to have the satisfaction of being treated so unlike a princess!
And the truth was that she wasn’t sorry to be forced to stop. After a sixteen-mile walk the previous day, a sleepless night and the day’s hard physical work, she was so tired she couldn’t even muster the energy to brush the midges away, and she stumbled over her own feet until Corran took her arm in a hard grip.
‘You are one stubborn woman, you know that?’ he growled. ‘Why don’t you just admit that it’s all too much for you?’
‘Because it’s not. I’m fine, honestly.’
‘You can’t even walk straight! This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen,’ he said grouchily. ‘I haven’t got time to worry about what sort of state you’re in, you know. I can’t concentrate on what I’m doing if I have to wonder about whether you’ve collapsed in a heap somewhere because you’ve got no idea how to be sensible!’
He harangued Lotty all the way back to the house, although she was too tired to take in much of it. As soon as they were inside and could shut the midges out, he let go of her arm and she slumped against the wall without his support. It was all she could do not to slide onto the floor with Pookie, who was yapping hysterically at the prospect of being fed.
Corran looked from one to the other as if unable to decide which of them was more exasperating. ‘You!’ He pointed at the dog. ‘Shut up! And you,’ he added to Lotty, jerking his finger at the ceiling, ‘go up and have a bath. You’ve got half an hour before supper. And don’t fall asleep in there!’ he shouted after her as she bumped against the wall on her way to the stairs, the prospect of getting clean too delicious to resist.
The bathroom was draughty and as cheerless as the rest of the house, with linen fold panelling halfway up the walls and lino that curled at the corners. The cast iron tub had claw legs and rusty stains beneath the taps, but to Lotty it beat any five star bathroom hands down. She sank into the hot water with a groan of pleasure.
It felt as if every millimetre of her was caked with grime. Holding her breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and sank below the surface, to emerge smiling and spluttering a few moments later. It had been a long, tough day, but she had survived it. She had a job, she had somewhere to stay, and now she was going to be clean as well.
It felt wonderful.
Closing her eyes, Lotty rested her head against the rim of the bath and let her mind drift. And somehow it drifted to Corran, and the way he had looked when he had stormed into the cottage. He had obviously showered himself, because his dark hair had been damp still. His jeans emphasised his long legs and narrow hips, while the plain dark T-shirt moulded his broad chest.
Lotty had to admit that she liked his body. It was strong and solid, without being showy. She liked the easy way he moved, the feeling she had that he was utterly at home in his skin. She liked his competence, the assurance with which he did everything, even if it was just snapping his fingers at a dog or unscrewing a flask. Corran was in control of whatever he was doing.
He might not smile, but there was an appealing sureness to him. Lotty’s mind floated further, back to the rock where she and Corran had shared lunch, back to wondering what he would be like as a lover.
If only she had more confidence! She was intelligent, capable, beautiful. She was a princess, for heaven’s sake. By rights, she should have the nerve and the knowledge to seduce him without a second thought.
Not a single one of her distinguished ancestors would have hesitated to take what they wanted. But they hadn’t had to be perfect, had they? They hadn’t been brought up by Grandmère, hadn’t been expected to take her mother’s place and save her father distress by behaving perfectly at all times.
She didn’t have to behave perfectly now, Lotty reminded herself.
The idea, terrifying in its recklessness, glimmered back into life. This was her chance, her one shot at living life like everyone else. For three short months, she could be normal.
And how normal was it to be a virgin at twenty-eight?
Maybe it was the hot water, but Lotty could feel herself beginning to glow. Perhaps she would never have the nerve, but she was allowed to dream, wasn’t she?
She wanted to dream that she got out of this bath and went downstairs. In her dream, Corran was in the kitchen. Perhaps not the most romantic of settings, but it was the only room she had seen properly. Besides, there was something about all that tough masculinity in a domestic setting that appealed to her.
So, yes, he was in the kitchen, doing something ordinary. Cooking. Chopping something. Not onions or garlic, but something not quite so pungent. Tomatoes, perhaps. His head was bent and he was totally focused on his task, but when she appeared in the doorway, he lifted his head.
And he smiled.
Lotty had never seen Corran smile, not properly, but she knew it would be slow and sure, like the rest of him, and she shivered at the way it warmed the granite face, creasing his cheeks and curving that cool mouth.
Come here, he said, and in her fantasy his voice was dark and low and urgent. All the breath leaked out of Lotty’s lungs just imagining it. It was a voice that would brook no disobedience, and it would never occur to her not to do exactly as he asked. So she would cross the kitchen towards him without taking her eyes off his and…
No, wait, what was she wearing? Lotty rewound a little. If she was going to have a fantasy, she might as well get it right, and she didn’t want to lose her virginity in the jeans, camisole and raspberry-pink cashmere cardigan, which was all she had had to wear in the evenings for the last week. She certainly didn’t want to be wearing her grungy work clothes.
Just a towel? She wouldn’t have the nerve, Lotty decided. No, if this was a fantasy, she didn’t have to be limited to the contents of her rucksack, did she? Her suitcase that was still sitting at Glasgow Station contained a Japanese print silk robe. She could wear that.
Satisfied, Lotty mentally slipped into the robe. Beneath it, she was naked and the silk felt cool against her bare skin. Ah, yes, now the fantasy was well back on track.
Come here, Corran said—again—and she walked towards him, the robe fluttering around her legs. She stood in front of him, and he reached wordlessly for the belt, tugging it gently so that the robe fell open.
Would he gasp at her beauty? Lotty considered and rejected this regretfully. She just couldn’t imagine Corran gasping at anything. But he might smile again, mightn’t he? A slow smile that started in his eyes and made her heart thump as he put his hard hands at her waist and drew her towards him.
And then—oh, then!—he would lower his head and—
‘Lotty!’